


cut clean from the dream

by delimeful



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Captivity, Crying, Fairies, Fear, Gen, Giant/Tiny, Panic, Threats of Violence, Trapped, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2020-10-17 13:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20621861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delimeful/pseuds/delimeful
Summary: Logan is a captured fairy, stuck in a bottle on the shelf of a potions shop. Virgil is an unlucky apprentice witch who needs fairy wings for his next assignment. Things turn out better than either of them could have expected. G/T





	1. Chapter 1

A small bell’s ring echoed through the small store as the door was pushed open, the first customer of the day. 

Logan couldn’t see them from his shelf, but he heard the rapid footsteps of the shopkeep emerge right on schedule, approaching them with vigor. 

“Hello! Anything in particular I can help you with today?”

“Uh…” An uncertain voice, low in contrast to the shopkeeper’s shrillness. 

Logan sighed, tuning the conversation out and turning away from the mid-morning light. The rounded bottle he was in wasn’t great for sleeping, which was a shame, seeing as being trapped as merchandise in a local potions shop was already enough of a nightmare. 

He’d love to pretend that he had no idea how this had happened, but what it really came down to was his own foolishness. It had only taken investigating the bag of a hitchhiker who came back earlier than expected, and his habit of trying to glean knowledge from humans got him well and truly captured, passed from hand to hand in sales until he wound up here. Far from home, and everything he’d ever known, and Patton.

His gossamer butterfly wings fluttered, agitated, and he sat back up. There was really no point trying to get back to sleep with such thoughts hammering against his skull, and the shopkeep was busy jumping around the store with loud, heavy steps anyways. He rested his chin on his hand to watch the man go by, figuring he could at least see what this new customer looked like. 

He didn’t expect the two humans to stop right in front of him. He stiffened, suddenly straining to hear the words properly through the glass. 

“-have any stock left of severed wings, unfortunately, our next order comes in around three or four days. However, as you can see here, we do have a fairy with wings intact! It’ll be a little pricier, obviously, but I can give you a discount for the trouble!” 

The customer was a tall, skinny figure draped in black from his cloak-like apparel to his makeup, staring at Logan with dark purple eyes. Definitely a witch, going by the sigil tattoos along the patches of visible exposed skin. Logan narrowed his eyes back at him, trying to look like trouble. It’d be much easier to just come back after a few days than deal with the delicate process of shredding the wings from a fairy. The witch dragged his gaze over to the shopkeep, looking exhausted. 

“I don’t _need_ a whole fairy. You seriously don’t have any wings in stock? Like, in the back or anything?” He asked, looking already resigned to the answer. 

“Afraid not, that is a rather rare ingredient with the elusiveness of fairies.” The shopkeep hummed. “Is this a budget thing? If you’re willing to wait a few hours, I can call in our alchemist and have him harvest this fairy and get you just the wings for a lower price.” 

Logan felt the color drain from his face, hopes shattered. He looked away from the human’s piercing gaze, trying to keep the dizzying panic from overwhelming him. He’d heard the stories. He’d known it would turn out this way since he got captured. It wasn’t a surprise, just an unpleasant eventuality. 

“Ugh.” The witch pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Just… I’ll take the fairy.” 

“Excellent!” The shopkeep clapped cheerily as Logan’s stomach dropped. He whisked the glass bottle off the shelf, hurrying over to the register and leaving Logan sprawled on the clear bottom of it, watching the ground below whiz by. He grimaced as the bottle was set down, shoving against the glass wall to prop himself back up and scoop his glasses up off the bottom of the bottle. 

The transaction took place over his head, and then long fingers wrapped around the glass, and he was lifted up again, slower this time. The bottle was carefully tucked into a pocket of the cloak, and everything went dark and muffled. For a while, Logan’s world was reduced to the small gap of light and noise from the pocket opening, swaying with the momentum of the human’s steps. 

He pressed up against the lid of the bottle despite knowing it was futile. The enchantment on it held strong, and would remain that way until it was opened from the outside by his new captor. He’d only have one chance at escape. He’d have to use it wisely. 

The noise overhead died down, and a door thudded closed. There was some muffled conversation, another door, and then finally quiet. Logan braced himself just in time for the hand to grab the neck of the bottle, pulling him back into the light. 

Even after the darkness of the pocket, the room wasn’t blinding. It seemed dimly lit, heavy black curtains over the windows and halloween-themed fairy lights strung on the walls. Logan blinked. It was still the summer months, was it not?

His attention was drawn back to the witch as he set the bottle on his desk, sighing as he sat heavily on the chair in front of it. Logan refused to flinch as he leaned in to look at the bottle, face warped oddly by the glass. The witch scrubbed his hands through his hair and sighed again, pulling a piece of wide parchment out and scrawling a sigil on it with a red ink pen that smelled suspiciously of iron. 

A moment later, Logan’s prison was finally being opened, and he stumbled as the jar was tilted on its side, opening resting on the human’s palm. He seized the opportunity, kicking off the glass wall to propel himself out of the jar into fresh air. 

A second after he flitted out, there was a sudden yank on his leg, and he found himself dragged down to the desk below by a shackle made of thick, shadowy magic. 

“Yeah, thought that might happen.” The witch said, voice resonating through Logan now that he wasn’t hearing it from behind a wall of glass. The shackle finished retracting back to the sigil, leaving him pinned down by his leg, and the witch pushed him over with a finger. Logan had the sense to flare his wings out so they wouldn’t get crumpled painfully beneath him, but this left him flat on his back and vulnerable. He shuddered, wings slapping against the wood ineffectively. 

Above him, the witch was casually pulling some kind of tool from a drawer, and Logan felt a flare of irritation break through his fear. He opened his mouth before he could think better of it. “You could not just wait for three measly days? Truly? 

The witch paused, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow. Logan refused to cower, even when the witch leaned his elbows on the desk, arms bracketing either side of him. He glared back despite the chills running down his spine, and the witch snorted.

“Big attitude for someone so small.” He muttered, but he looked tiredly amused rather than angry. “I can’t wait three days, actually, because this project is due in two.” 

Great. A procrastinating student was going to be the one to kill him, after trying to learn was what got him into this mess in the first place. He let his head thunk back down onto the desk, eyes stinging with frustrated tears.

“Tell me you at least know how to… how to _harvest_ my wings.” Logan said, bile rising in his throat. He forced himself to keep speaking, his voice coming out sharp. “If I have to spend my last living moments watching an amateur mangle my body, I will be very unhappy.” 

“Hey, I’m no _amateur._ I wouldn’t have bought a whole goddamn fairy if I didn’t know how to…” He gestured vaguely. “You know.” 

“Reassuring.” Logan responded dryly, and the witch gave him a half-hearted glare before pulling out a few metallic square rocks. 

Weights, Logan realized as they were placed at the outer corners of his wings, pinning them down so that they couldn’t move. His wingspan was large enough that he couldn’t reach the weights with his hands, and his breathing began to speed up as he instinctively tried to pull his wings free, to no avail. After this, he wouldn’t ever move them again. He suddenly wished fervently that he’d gotten more than that brief heartbeat of freedom outside the jar, that he’d at least been able to fly more than a few inches, even if escape was futile. 

Movement above him caught his eye, and he realized that the witch was staring down at him with a strange expression, with a sharp metal tool in one hand. He stared at it for a moment, and then decided that he didn’t want to watch himself be taken apart, actually, and closed his eyes, swallowing heavily. 

Despite knowing logically that being captured meant he was going to die, being faced with his own imminent mortality still made some primal part of him feel panicked and fearful. Patton would be proud of him, admitting that he did feel things after all. 

Oh, stars, _Patton_. Logan had vanished without even telling him where he was going. The bubbly sprite would never even know what happened to him. He hoped desperately that Patton wouldn’t search for him, wouldn’t get himself in trouble because of Logan’s own foolishness. The pressure behind his eyes finally broke, chest shuddering with barely restrained sobs as his cheeks went wet with tears. And why shouldn’t he cry? What was the point of pride when he’d never get to see the stars or his home or Patton ever again? 

“Oh man.” There was a long groan from above him. “Ugh, I can’t do this.” 

Logan blinked his eyes open in surprise, squinting through the blurriness of his tears at the human. “What?” He said, voice thick. 

Surprisingly, the witch was not hovering over him menacingly with the tool as he’d imagined. Instead, he was slumped back against his chair, rubbing at his eyes and smearing his eyeliner even further. “I’m gonna fail so hard. What kind of witch can’t even kill a fairy?” 

“Are you- what?” Logan repeated, still trying to catch up to the implications of his words. The witch sighed, and then leaned down, smudging a thumb over the ink of the sigil and breaking its circle. The shackle dissipated into dark smoke, and Logan stared up at him. 

“Are you… not going to kill me?” He asked, voice tinged with disbelief. The witch cringed. 

“Nope. I’ve decided fuck this actually, ‘this’ being my life.” He raised a hand and Logan flinched back, anticipating being crushed, but all the witch did was carefully pluck the weights off of his wings. 

Before he could change his mind, Logan scrambled to his feet, wings aflutter. The witch ignored him for the most part as he took to the air, turning to his desk and clearing it off, occasionally glancing at Logan as though worried the fairy was going to dive-bomb him. It didn’t seem like the witch wanted to re-capture him at all. Logan hovered lower cautiously.

“You needed to do this for your project. What… changed your mind?” He asked. Clearly, he hadn’t learned his lesson about curiosity, but this human was a strange one.

The witch huffed. “What changed my mind is that according to textbooks, fairies are insectoids with no true sentience, only able to mimic human emotions.” He looked sardonically at Logan. “Does that seem true to you?” 

“Ah.” Logan said, getting it. “So, because you believe me to be sentient, you’re… letting me go?” 

“Yeah, that’s the long and short of it. I know what real terror looks like, and you weren’t ‘mimicking’ anything. I’m not going to kill a person, no matter how shitty a witch that makes me.” He finished, wiping some dust from his desk before walking to the window and pulling the drapes open. 

The warm light of a setting sun poured into the room, and Logan watched as the witch unlatched and then opened his window. “There you go.” He said, and stepped back.

Logan landed on the windowsill, staring at the unfamiliar silhouettes of the buildings around him. He spread his wings out fully and focused on _home_, on the tug of magic in his core that would guide him back. 

Nothing. 

He tried again, feeling tears of frustration threatening at the corner of his eyes when his magic remained frustratingly non-responsive. 

“Uh, you good?” The witch asked, making him jump in surprise. He had to stop letting his guard down around this stranger.

“No.” Logan responded shortly. “I cannot access my homing magic, and without it I fear I shall not be able to find my way back without being captured again or becoming terribly lost.” 

“You can’t access it, huh… Could I, uh… could you show me your wrists?” The witch asked, holding out a hand hesitantly. Logan tilted his head, wary. 

“How do I know you won’t simply trap me again?” 

The witch rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand. “Okay, I’m not trying to be, like… a jerk. But if I wanted to hurt you or keep you trapped, I would have just done it back when I had you pinned to a table. There’s literally no reason for me to let you go only to con you back into containment.” 

“Hm. That is true.” Logan admitted, and flew up to the witch’s hand without fanfare, standing on the edge of his palm. The witch blinked, startled, and Logan presented a hand with an eyebrow raised impatiently. 

“Right.” The witch muttered, and leaned in close enough that Logan could have reached out to touch his face. He focused on not being nervous, though it was hard with those eyes locked so intently on him. They seemed to be almost glowing?

The witch retracted, nodding to himself. “Yeah, you’ve got sealing magic on you. It’s human magework, pretty subtle stuff.” 

“Can you remove it?” Logan asked immediately, and the witch snorted, jostling him slightly.

“I’m a student, a failing one at that.” The witch bit his lip as Logan’s expression fell. “But I can probably get my hands on some book about sealing magic.” 

Logan eyed him suspiciously. “Why would you?” 

“Because I want you out of my hair?” The human tried. 

“I am not in your hair.” Logan answered, unimpressed with the nonsensical response. The witch sighed. 

“How about a deal. You teach me about fairies and their real culture, not the garbage they put in the textbooks, and I’ll help you figure out the basics of human magecraft. Figuring out the sealing magic is out of my depth, though, so you’ll have to tackle that yourself.” 

Logan thought the terms through before answering, but there wasn’t much to think on. It was everything he could have wanted, though the human couldn’t have known it. He just had to be careful about what he revealed in case this witch truly was malicious. “Deal.” 

“Great.” The witch said, offering his other hand to Logan to shake. “I’m Virgil.” 

Logan clasped a hand on Virgil’s fingertip, shaking it once firmly. Virgil’s lip twitched at the movement. 

“Logan. When can we get started?” He asked, rising to hover in the air once more. 

Virgil’s lips twisted up into a half-smile, and he pulled a worn textbook from the shelf above his desk. “Why not now?”

Logan couldn’t help but return the sentiment, his glow already brightening at the sight of a new source of knowledge. 

Despite the rocky start, it seemed to be the beginning of a promising partnership.


	2. Chapter 2

A loud, shrill alarm broke through Logan’s concentration, nearly causing him to topple off the book he was using as a perch. 

A low moan came from the bed, and, seeing that he wasn’t likely to get more reading done until the situation was sorted, he flapped his wings once and then took flight. 

He zipped past where Virgil was little more than a bump under his weighted blankets and landed on the snooze button, wincing at the volume of the clock in the second before it cut out. 

“Virgil. Wake up.” He instructed, eliciting another dramatic groan. 

“Why? Every day is a nightmare.” The witch mumbled from under the covers. 

“Because it will be more of a nightmare if you miss class with your least favorite professor again.” Logan said, unfazed. 

There was shuffling, and Logan took a step back as the covers were pushed back, revealing Virgil’s exhausted visage. “I hate it when you’re right.” 

“You hate everything in the mornings.” Logan retorted, taking to the air once more. “Go get some coffee. Black, like your soul.” 

“You strike a hard but fair bargain.” Virgil mock saluted him and stumbled out of bed, shuffling off to go imbibe ungodly amounts of caffeine. Logan shook his head, lips twitching. 

It was odd, how he was chatting idly with a human witch as though his species hadn’t been avoiding them for ages on fear of death. Virgil made it almost easy, giving Logan his space and being a patient, if sometimes frustratingly cryptic teacher. They made good roommates, even if Logan didn’t really pay rent. 

He made it through another page of his book before Virgil stormed back into the room, a large, dark stain dampening his pajama shirt. Logan raised an eyebrow. Speaking of roommates…

“Another prank?” He asked, propping his elbows up on the book as Virgil changed. 

“Yes.” The witch growled, tossing the damp shirt in the direction of his laundry basket. “Idiot continues to believe that I’m actively targeting him, rather than his stupid nicknames making my temper flare, and thus, magic happen.” 

“Have you told him that you aren’t intentionally magicking his hair into knots and his showers freezing cold?” Logan asked. 

“… No.” Virgil muttered, pulling his student robes over his shoulders. “And I don’t plan to! I’m not going to lose to a half-brained drama queen like him either way. I’ll just be more vigilant next time.” 

“Good luck, then.” Logan took a moment to decipher the clock’s numerals. “You’re almost late.” 

“Augh shit, bye!” Virgil said, snatching his bag and darting out the door. 

Logan spent the next few hours immersed in the text, only pausing when his stomach gave a particularly loud rumble. He sighed, standing and stretching out his stiff limbs. Virgil kept a stash of nonperishables in his room, but Logan had had his fill of processed garbage while trapped, and he much preferred fresh produce anyhow. 

Luckily, there was a bowl of fruit set on the kitchen counter, and according to the clock, there was still hours yet before any humans got home. Not that he’d have to worry about Virgil, but he preferred to eat separate from the human regardless. It was unsettling to watch someone take a you-sized bite out of something, as he figured out early on for the sake of his appetite. 

He fluttered over to the door, pressing his hand against the sigil inked into the wood. It responded to his magical signature, the lock clicking and the door popping open. Virgil may have been an unorthodox witch, but his capacity for substituting and reworking magic for different, innovative purposes was truly astounding. It was how he’d managed to create a substitute ingredient for fairy wings that had saved his grade after sparing Logan. 

He slipped through the partially open door, gliding down the hall until it opened up into the kitchen area. From there, it was simple to touch down on the edge of the fruit bowl and begin tearing chunks out of the nearest pear. He sat down against an orange and began to eat, grimacing slightly at the stickiness of the fruit juices. He’d have to rinse himself off after this. 

That was as far as he got before the sound of a door being flung open made him freeze. 

A jaunty whistle split the air, and the door slammed closed, propelling Logan into action. He quickly slid further into the bowl, crouching against an orange and tucking his wings down so as not to be seen. The footsteps in the hall were loud, proving once again that this wasn’t Virgil, who moved with only a slight rustling. 

That left the other resident of the flat. Roman. 

Logan took a deep breath. Not all was lost. He simply had to wait until the other human passed by, and he could escape back to the safety of Virgil’s room. 

He watched carefully as the other relative giant appeared. It was no surprise that Virgil didn’t get along with him, going by appearances alone. He was dressed in bright colors, a white and red jacket prime among them, and he held himself with the sort of prideful confidence that Virgil sorely lacked. 

Roman continued to whistle as he strolled past, and Logan counted the steps until he was out of sight. Three… two… one… 

Roman stopped short at the edge of the kitchen, whistle cutting off sharply, and Logan barely held back a groan, body tense. The human tilted his head slightly, and then sniffed the air a couple of times. 

Spurred on by a sudden sense of foreboding, Logan decided that Roman’s current distance would have to be good enough, and launched himself out of the bowl, wings buzzing as he darted away. 

Not fast enough. 

“Gotcha!” His vision went dark as a pair of hands clapped over him like they were catching a firefly, and he cried out as his wings were pinched between skin. 

The hands cracked open enough for a bright red eye to peer in, and Logan could feel his heart racing with both fear and fury. He’d had enough of being manhandled for a lifetime. “Let me go.” He said, severely. 

The face withdrew slightly in surprise, brows furrowing. “You’re the one who came into my kitchen, Tinkerbell. How did a fairy…” He paused, looking up for a second. “Oh.” 

Logan frowned. He didn’t like that tone of realization. 

“Did you get yourself caught by a witch, Merryweather? You must be a clever one to have escaped.” Roman opened his hands up and shifted his hands to the side, making Logan tumble into one palm. He stumbled, unbalanced enough by the sudden movement that he couldn’t dodge the grasping fingers that grabbed him by the base of the wings, keeping him stationary. 

He glowered. “This is not letting me go.” 

“Don’t worry, little fairy.” Roman said, barely seeming to hear Logan’s words. “I won’t turn you in, I happen to be at odds with the witch myself. Plus, you’re much too cute to leave at the mercy of a villain like that!” 

“Virgil is not a villain.” Logan gritted out, digging his fingers into the flesh of Roman’s palm. 

Roman frowned at him, and then shifted his pinching grip to his leg, yanking him into the air to dangle upside down. He yelped, his wings fluttering ineffectually as he held onto his glasses. 

“Wow, they weren’t kidding when they said fairies just mimicked, huh? You’re like a smaller, more huffy version of a parrot.” Roman poked at Logan’s torso, ignoring the swipe Logan aimed at him. “Emo Nightmare has gotten even more depressing if he’s making potions ingredients tell him he’s not evil.” 

Roman seemed a bit perturbed by the thought, before shrugging. “Well, don’t worry, you’ll be safe with me. I don’t bite.” He grinned.

“I find that hard to believe.” Logan spat, the blood beginning to rush to his head. “Let go of me, I have no desire to go anywhere with you!” 

His words were ignored completely this time, Roman only answering with a vague hum before carrying Logan to his room. It was lit brightly by the afternoon sun, and Logan found himself missing the dark and spooky surroundings that made up Virgil’s room more and more.

“What are you even doing home this early?” Logan said, kicking aimlessly at the fingers pinched around his ankle. Roman looked surprised by the question.

“Due to a janitorial error, the performance space that my company usually practices in was unusable, so rehearsal was cancelled.” Logan was lifted to meet Roman’s curious gaze. “Do you know my schedule, Tink?” 

“It’s Logan.” He bit out, wings flapping once for emphasis. 

“Oh, I’m Roman!” He responded cheerily, finally releasing Logan’s leg. 

He dropped in freefall for a few seconds, before his wings caught on the air and he spiraled out of reach, dizzy. “Nice to meet you,” He said, sarcasm lacing his tone, “now will you please leave me alone?”

“Aw, you sound just like Doctor Gloom. Nah, let’s get you acquainted with something less dark and spooky.” Roman fiddled with the small television in the corner of his room until it began playing animated pictures. He threw himself onto his bed with aplomb. “C’mon, come watch.” 

Logan could think of few things he would want to do less than get in arms reach of Roman again. He fluttered higher. “I think not.” 

Roman narrowed his eyes, sending a chill down Logan’s spine. “I’ll just come over there and grab you again.” 

Logan hit the ceiling, high in the air. “You… you can’t reach me.” 

“Wanna bet?” Roman said, grinning sharply. “My reflexes are better than you think.” 

Logan searched the room, trying to find some plausible method of escape before his eyes paused on the clock settled on the nightstand. Virgil would be home in a couple of hours, and he was much better equipped to handle Roman, size-wise. He just had to stall.

Biting his tongue, he came down to alight on the bedpost, carefully sitting cross legged on top of it. He was turned so that his back wasn’t completely facing the human, but Roman seemed content enough with that. 

“There you go, perfect!” Roman turned the volume up, propping his chin up on his hands. 

Logan sighed, and turned to pretend to watch the television. This was going to be a long few hours. 

– 

When Virgil slammed Roman’s door open, face dark and shadowy magic curling around his ankles, the two of them were in a heated debate about the plausibility of Ariel simply learning to write in order to bypass the lost voice issue.

They both turned to Virgil with matching looks of surprise. Logan got to his feet, pretending he hadn’t just been listing reasons Ariel would likely struggle with the ability to learn human script. “Virgil. I-” 

“Back, fiend!” Roman screeched, seizing Logan in one hand and crading it to his chest protectively. “I won’t allow you to use this defenseless creature as potions fodder!” 

Logan sighed audibly from his position smushed against Roman’s shirt. Virgil crossed his arms. “What exactly have you been telling him about me, Lo?” 

“All good things, I assure you.” Logan said, his voice coming out muffled. He wriggled out of Roman’s loosening grip, standing on his highest finger.

Roman was looking between them with confusion. “Wait, you… you know his name?” 

“I told you,” Logan said, “Virgil is not a villain. He was not keeping me captive.” 

“Your faith in me is astounding, Princey.” Virgil added, rolling his eyes. “Logan is our off-the-books third roommate. Treat him nicely, like the person he is, or I’ll end you.” 

Logan raised an eyebrow at the threat, and Virgil made a face at him, turning away. “I’m making dinner.” 

Roman blinked, looking down at Logan. “You guys are friends?”

“Of course not. We’re simply… business associates.” Logan insisted, and then took to the air when Roman’s expression turned doubtful. “You’d better hurry if you don’t want Virgil to spit in your food.” He threw over his shoulder as he darted out the door. 

“Hey!”


	3. Chapter 3

Patton hovered at the roof of the shady-looking human store, occasionally sticking his head over the ledge to peer through the dusty display windows.

He’d come all this way, past what felt like hundreds of sprawling human cities, and now the only thing between him and the next step to finding his best friend was one measly wall. His cloaking magic had served him well so far, but being invisible wouldn’t help him walk through solid surfaces.

And getting in there was vital. The dark blue life-trail that he’d been tailing for so long had led him to this doorstep, and hadn’t emerged again. He was exhausted from using such powerful magic for such a long time, but he wasn’t going to stop now! He would stay right on this roof until he found Logan, or at least a sign as to where the fairy had been taken from here.

‘_You can’t help anyone if you pass out from magic exhaustion_,’ a tiny voice in the back of his mind that sounded an awful lot like Logan reminded him. He bit his lip, considering for a moment finding a tree to hole up and recover in.

At that very moment, a human in a bright jacket turned the corner, striding towards the store with purpose. Patton’s wings twitched as his determination renewed. He wouldn’t pass up this opportunity!

As soon as the stranger pulled the door open to enter, Patton invisibly dove past, any sound he might have made obscured by the small, ringing bell that the open door had triggered. The stranger’s nose twitched briefly, but neither him nor the shopkeep seemed to track Patton’s movement, so he hurried along to the rickety shelves.

There were all sorts of strange bits and bobs, some of which looked alarmingly fae-like, but no Logan. Against the advice of that little voice— one he was beginning to suspect was his common sense— he cast the tracking spell again, and found a heavy collection of deep indigo life-trail on one empty spot on a shelf. There was a ring in the dust, leftover from a container that must have been big enough for Logan to fit in.

But he wasn’t here now. And whatever had taken him, it had strong enough magic to cloak his life-trail entirely.

The air sprite felt his spirits sink as he realized that he had truly lost his only lead.

Then, he felt his stomach sink as there was a yell from the nearby shopkeep. He realized that the magic drain had caused his invisibility to flicker right out, leaving him hovering there clear as day.

He backpedaled immediately, but there was no breeze to aid him in the stagnant store, and before he could get out of range, thick fingers were closing around him, crushing his wings to his back painfully. He cried out, but the grip didn’t loosen.

“What in the world did you get out of, you little–”

“Hey!” An indignant yell made the furious mutterings of the man holding him come to a pause. The stranger in the bright coat stood at the head of the aisle, frowning severely.

The shopkeep’s tone immediately turned customer-service pleasant. “Just one moment, sir, I’m simply dealing with some loose merchandise–”

“_Excuse_ me?” the stranger cut him off, expression only growing more offended. “That is not your _merchandise,_ that is my… my emotional support sprite!”

_What?_

“What?” the shopkeep echoed Patton’s thoughts, looking bewildered. The stranger walked over with purposeful steps, holding a hand out in demand.

“My property, if you will. If I’d known you were so callous with other people’s belongings, I wouldn’t have chosen here to browse.” The stranger stuck his nose in the air haughtily.

This seemed to snap the shopkeep out of his fugue, and he hurriedly dropped Patton onto the other man’s hand. “My apologies, sir, though I do ask that in the future you keep a closer eye on your… pet.”

Patton had tried to catch himself as soon as he began freefalling, but his wings were still crumpled, and it was only a short distance to the other human’s hand. As soon as he landed, fingers curled up around him, one keeping his leg pinned to the palm. He tried to wriggle free anyhow, and received another hand cupped over him for his efforts.

Above him, the stranger sniffed once and then turned on his heel and walked right out of the store. Patton breathed a sigh of relief; back out in the fresh air. Once this human let his guard down, all he would have to do was summon a slight breeze and catch a lift away on it. Provided his magic wasn’t too taxed for such a task.

The stranger walked rather quickly for another few moments, and then turned sharply into an alley. Patton looked up with wide eyes as the hands around him unfolded, revealing a face with bright red eyes that seemed surprisingly… concerned? The stranger let out a long breath of relief, and then started speaking rapidfire.

“I am so, so,_ so_ sorry about that,” the stranger said, flattening his hands out so that there was nothing stopping Patton from standing. He did so, but curiosity kept him from immediately fluttering away. That, and his wings. “I just needed him to let go of you, I promise I don’t think of you as anything less than the person you are, please don’t be afraid.”

“You– huh?” Patton replied, eloquently. The stranger smiled with oddly sharp teeth.

“Sorry, let me start over. I’m Roman, and you are?”

“Um, Patton!” he offered, still a bit thrown off. A moment ago, he’d been sure he was going to end up as part of a potion, and now he was… free? Maybe? He subtly started straightening out his wings, just in case.

“Nice to meet you, Patton! My sincerest apologies for my rough handling, I hope you’ll forgive me such actions in the name of getting you out of that cursed place.”

Patton nodded, and then shook his head, trying to figure out what to focus on first. “Why were you in there in the first place?”

Roman took on a proud expression. “I’ve been stopping by to inspect the place for other fairies or sprites that are trapped, waiting to be sold. That way, I can buy their freedom. Not that the store owner knows that, of course.”

“But _why?_” Patton knew better than most that humans, magic or not, saw their kind as useful at best and pests at worst.

“I will admit to my shame that it took the intervention of another to show me that the portrayal of fairykind has been terribly skewed,” he said, and then a fond smile overtook his face. “Luckily, I have a roommate who is educated in such matters, and didn’t hesitate to inform me of the truth as well.”

Huh. Patton hadn’t known that there were humans who considered fairies people. It made his heart feel warm as a summer wind. For a moment, he wondered if maybe Logan was one of the fairies he’d freed, but… Roman was no witch. He couldn’t be able to cloak a presence so effectively. He shook the thought away, focusing on the present. “Then, I’m free to go? For realsies, right?”

“That’s right! For realsies,” Roman said, and then shifted to rummage in his pocket with one hand. “Here, if you ever find yourself in need, this little card will point you in the right direction to my abode. Me or my roommates would be happy to help!”

Patton took the square of paper, which was thoughtfully very small, and tucked it into his belt. “Thank you!” Hesitantly, he hovered into the air over Roman’s hands, and smiled when the human didn’t even twitch in his direction. “Really. Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary,” he said, and then added with a wink, “but I do appreciate them greatly!”

Patton laughed, and then let the wind carry him up and up and up, until Roman was just a bright speck of color on the ground, and he headed back to the evergreen he was using as a temporary sleeping perch.

Close encounters aside, he had a lot of thinking to do. Logan would be proud, once Patton found him.

He _was_ going to find him. He had to.

—

Two days later, Patton had scoured every nook and cranny in the entire town, and all he’d gotten for his efforts was an increasing sense of despair and exhaustion. There was no trace of Logan anywhere, and it was becoming more and more difficult to keep his spirits high. The fact that he hadn’t found a place to safely rest and recharge wasn’t helping, either.

He ducked behind a reflective street sign as another car rushed by in a rumble of noise and smoke. On the bright side, so many hours spent eavesdropping on humans meant that he was learning a lot about how things worked outside their home forest. Logan would have loved to hear all about it…

“Wait… humans!” Patton hurriedly perched on the top of a nearby lamppost, pulling a flat sheaf of paper from his belt. He’d been so consumed with his search that he’d almost forgotten his encounter with Roman.

The human had said that he or his roommate would offer help, and he had meant it, Patton was sure. Logan would have been concerned about what the humans wanted from him in exchange, but Patton wasn’t quite as cynical. Logan could lecture him about it later, after he found him.

Stretching out his wings, he tapped the paper and activated the rune on it, smiling as a bright, glittering trail glowed its way into existence. The magic was fairly nature-based, he noticed as he darted into the air and followed the weaving path between buildings and over streets. Roman had probably asked for the help of a fairy to create it.

Maybe, once he found Logan, he could convince him to come along and visit Roman? They had so much in common, it seemed like they’d get along! They were both pretty stubborn though… Maybe after an initial rough patch.

Soon enough, he reached the third level of an apartment building, and the trail led right to a window that was draped in red curtains and closed tight. He knocked on the glass politely, but nobody seemed to be inside, and the paper didn’t work as a key.

Patton hummed, brow furrowing in thought, and then hovered over to the other side of the building. Maybe the roommate was in?

There were curtains on this window too, dark heavy ones, but they were parted just slightly enough that he could see into the room. The glass part of the window was lifted up, but there was a layer of mesh still preventing him from just flying in. He almost called out, but as he got closer, he could sense human magic thick in the air.

Instead, he pressed closer to the glass and peeked through the drapes, promising himself that he would apologize for intruding if everything turned out okay.

There was a human inside, but it definitely wasn’t Roman. He was tall, dark, and covered in glowing magic tattoos, ones that marked him as a witch, which made the tips of Patton’s wings flutter fearfully. Was this really Roman’s roommate?

The witch seemed to be hunched over something on his desk, going by the faint muttering and surges in magic, he was casting something. Patton tilted his head, wondering if maybe he should just go back to the window he knew was safe and wait for a little bit. This could be a whole other section of the building, for all he knew.

He drifted back just slightly, but at that very moment, he saw the witch move away, and got a perfect glimpse of what was sitting on the desk in front of him.

Or, rather, _who_.

Logan, _his_ Logan, sat there, wings disheveled and face scrunched up in pain, his hands held out, magical cuffs of glowing script just barely visible around them.

Normally, Patton wasn’t the type to just jump into things without talking first, especially not fights. But the sight of Logan, his best friend, who had been captured and put in chains by a _witch?_ That was far from normal.

Between one blink and the next, there was a gale underneath his wings. The cutting winds tore through the window mesh as easily as a knife through butter, and he rocketed towards the witch’s face fast enough to make them flinch. He stopped inches away, between the witch and Logan, and spread his wings wide and threatening.

“_Get away from him_,” he screamed, and the winds answered his call, throwing the room into upheaval and shoving the human to the ground as effectively as if Patton had been human-sized himself.

Convinced that the pin would hold, he turned to Logan, his vision already blurring with tears at seeing his friend alive and safe, even if just barely.

“Patton–” Logan attempted, and then cut himself off with a huff as Patton tackled him into the bear hug of all bear hugs, knocking them both into a sitting position. Despite his exasperation, Patton could see the way his friend’s wings were beating hummingbird-fast, and if the spot on his shoulder that Logan pressed his face to was a bit damp when he pulled away, well. Patton wasn’t going to tell anyone.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he told Logan, still holding his hands desperately, as though he’d vanish if he let go for even a second. “I was so _scared_, you can’t ever leave me behind like that again, okay?”

They both knew Logan hadn’t chosen to be abducted, but Patton’s voice cracked on the last syllable of his plea, and Logan’s face softened.

“I won’t,” he said, gripping Patton’s hands back just as tightly. “I promise.”

Patton sniffled, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. His magic pulled at him, and he abruptly remembered the human witch he’d attacked only moments ago. “Oh no! Logan, come on, we have to get out of here.”

He pulled them both to their feet, but when he began to hover towards the window, Logan didn’t follow. He looked back to him, confused. “Logan? It’s okay, we’ll find someone at home who can get that human magic off of you, no problem! So come on, okay?” 

Logan adjusted his glasses, using his other hand to tug Patton back to the surface of the desk. “Patton, hold on a moment. While I do appreciate your… dashing rescue, you’ve misunderstood a few things.”

Patton stared at him in disbelief. “What’s there to misunderstand? I _saw_ the witch hurting you!”

“Pat, look at him,” Logan said, and turned Patton to face the witch, who was still pinned to the floor by swirling winds.

… He wasn’t straining against the magic at all, now that he took the time to feel the enchantment. He was just laying there, in a tipped over wooden chair on the floor, looking up at them with half-lidded eyes like he was already over the entire situation.

“You alright, Virgil?” Logan asked, and the witch rolled his eyes.

“Other than the headache?” he snarked back. “Yeah, I’m fine. Have you convinced your sprite friend that I’m not evil yet?” 

“I am working on it,” Logan replied, the slightest smile on his lips as he looked down at the human.

And that– that smile, more than anything, convinced him.

“Okay.” Patton released the spell, stumbling slightly as the magic drain hit him fully. “Okay. But you…,” he yawned, “you have a lot of explaining to do, mister.”

“I’m sure I do.” Logan helped him sit, not complaining as Patton slumped over and used him as an improvised mattress. “For now, though, I think you need to rest.”

Even as Patton’s eyes drifted closed, he was clinging to Logan’s hand. And from the firm grip that he got in return, he knew that the other fairy wasn’t planning on leaving him anytime soon.

That was enough, for now.


End file.
